


Thorn-tinted Glasses

by On_Sonnshine



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Almost Song Fic, Hurt No Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 02:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16693564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/On_Sonnshine/pseuds/On_Sonnshine
Summary: Self·sab·o·teurA person who knowingly destroys oneself, and oneselfs relationships with others.





	Thorn-tinted Glasses

Logan trailed his fingers over the red and gold headphones lying on his desk, the soft cuffs discoloured blue from an incident with kool-aid and Roman haphazardly lifting him up onto his desk.  
  
The warmth that filled Logan’s chest at the remainder is cut off quickly by a gentle shake of his head. He takes hold of the headphones, hooking them around his neck. One.  
  
Logan doesn’t move for a long moment, hands pausing on the headphones- for a second, he’s sure he can hear phantoms of _You’ve Got a Friend In Me_ playing, and his eyes glaze slightly, the edge of his lips quirking up. Toy Story, the least favourite of everyone except for Patton and...Roman. He chuckled softly.  
  
Toy Story 2 was more favoured among the Sides, and Logan couldn’t disagree with them there.  
  
Logan reaches up to rub the back of his neck and sighs, head hanging as he shifted into action once again.  
  
‘When somebody loved me, everything was...beautiful…’ Logan cleared his throat, coughing a little and nibbling at the edge of his bottom lip, ‘Every hour spent toge-ther, lives, within my heart.’  
  
-  
  
Roman looks away from where a rerun of Toy Story 3 plays on the TV, clicking it off to instead stare down at the black and white striped tie in his hands, the little ufo clip at the top. He smoothed his hands down it, listening to the rustle. One of many gifts Roman had gotten the other Side for Christmas.  
  
Logan wore it more often than his signature tie, and if that didn’t make Roman want to preen.  
  
Well. If that hadn’t made Roman want to preen.  
  
He gives a watery, if wavering, smile, thinking back to that wonderful, wonderful day. Logan had cried, later. He did that a lot with Roman’s romantic gestures. Roman couldn’t say he minded much.  
  
‘When he was sad, I was there to dry his tears…’ Roman laughs just a little, settling an elbow on his knee and lifting his hand to clear his eyes, ‘And when he was happy, so was I.’  
  
Roman sniffled, resting his forehead against the tie’s fabric.  
  
‘When he, loved, me…’  
  
-  
  
Logan buried his nose into Roman’s red and white Christmas jumper, inhaling deeply.  
  
The faint scent of cinnamon and Roman’s peach body-wash clings to it, and Logan exhales, shoulders slumping.  
  
‘Through the summer and the fall, we had each other,’ He chuckles, tilting his head, a tear streaking down his cheek as he reluctantly reeled back, ‘Took down our walls. Just...he and I together, I thought it, was meant, to be.’  
  
Logan hugs the sweater to his chest, eyes falling to the closet. An old pair of Roman’s scuffed up boots lies there, earning a soft sigh. Logan tosses the sweater onto his bed, cocking his head a little, sinking to his knees and reaching out. His hand flinches and hesitates for a moment.  
  
Tenderly, he moves them closer, brushing the dust off of the shoes.  
  
That was Roman’s favourite thing after quests. Dragging himself into Logan’s room after patching himself up and kicking off his boots, sighing and burying his nose into the crook of Logan’s neck, murmuring about how much he missed him. Logan would guide him into bed or the shower, cooing, softer than he’d ever been, or would be, in front of the others. Vulnerable.  
  
Trusting.  
  
Logan’s eyes flickered closed, and he could almost feel Roman’s warmth lain against him, the knots in his shoulders beneath Logan’s hands. ‘And when he was lonely, I was there to comfort him,’ Logan pushes himself to stand, boots in hand.  
  
He took in a slow breath, turning to sit them beside the bed.  
  
‘And I knew that he, loved, me.’  
  
-  
  
Roman ran his fingers through his hair, head buried into his hands as silent tears slipped down his cheeks.  
  
The only thing to draw him from his thoughts was the sudden burst of chirping from outside the window- stutteringly, Roman lifted his head, looking to the large bay window beside his desk.  
  
A large tree sits outside of it, a nest of yellow canaries resting on one of the branches.  
  
He’s still for a long moment.  
  
Roman found himself on his knees on the cushioned seat, leaning forward and drawing open the windows, leaning out and taking in a breath as a cold wind blows into his face, icy and harsh. He could smell rain, but the sky was clear.  
  
The canaries looked to him, chirping, and he observed for a moment of silence before holding out a finger.  
  
One of the bigger canaries leans over to consider the offer, and after a long moment, it cheeps at him, hopping onto his hand. Ever-so-slowly, the prince draws his arm in. The bird lets him, looking up at him, cocking its head with dark, wide, inquisitive eyes.  
  
Roman’s chest ached, the little thing reminding him all too much of…  
  
‘So the days went by, it stayed the same,’ The canaries quiet, seeming to listen to the melody, ‘But my mind began to drift away.’  
  
Roman gently rubbed a pointer finger at the large canary’s head.  
  
‘He’d be left alone.’  
  
The canary makes a sharp noise, and Roman can barely jump before it’s turning to quickly flap back to its nest. Slowly, he sighs, arms crossing. He leant forward to rest on them.  
  
‘Lonely and dejected. Never thought he’d look my w-...’  
  
Roman fell silent, head perking. On the wind, he distantly hears something. Impossibly soft, intense, almost. His brows furrow, and the two large canaries flee from the nest in a batting of wings.  
  
‘Never thought he’d look away…’  
  
Roman blinks, frown deepening as he leaned back, turning to look into his room. He half-expects Logan to be standing there, hip cocked, asking what in God’s name Roman was doing and grabbing his hand to drag him downstairs for dinner.  
  
It’s as empty and dark as Roman knew it to be.  
  
But...distantly, to the left...  
  
Roman followed the voice, hand resting on the wall.  
  
‘And he smiled at me and held me…’ Roman softly repeats the words in tune, forehead resting against the wall, eyes slipping closed. _Of course._  
  
‘Just like, he al, ways did.’  
  
Logan sighed as he gathered Roman’s possessions into a bag, hands lingering in a quiet longing. Part of him, some sappy little part of him, wanted to hoard the items. To keep what little he now had of Roman.  
  
The other half scolded him for being so hopeless.  
  
Logan shakes his head, far more aggressively this time, harshly tying the bag and pursing his lips as he slipped out into the hallway, a grim purpose in his gait.  
  
‘Like he loved me...when he, loved, me…’  
  
Roman lifted the small case filled with Logan’s clutter- keeping the items would be a selfish wish. Roman had broken things off for both of their benefits. Hanging onto what he knew could never have been would just hurt both of them.  
  
‘Every hour spent together, lives, within my heart.’  
  
Logan gently raps his knuckles on Roman’s door, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth, voice dying into a quiet murmur as he hears shuffling.  
  
‘And I thought he, loved, me...’


End file.
